


Nothing Heals Old Wounds

by RedSnow1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Rowena MacLeod, Brotherly Love, Bunker, Caring Rowena MacLeod, Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends, Family Fluff, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Rowena MacLeod, Mother-Son Relationship, Not Beta Read, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Rowena MacLeod, Sweet, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnow1/pseuds/RedSnow1
Summary: /OS/Rowena, while trying to cure Jack, stumbles upon Sam and Dean sleeping. This sight revives buried feelings in the witch's heart.





	Nothing Heals Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello!
> 
> So, hi! I'm RedSnow1 and I am fairly new to this fandom. While watching the latest season, I really got inspired by Rowena's redemption arc and decided to write a little bit about it. If everything goes well, this should not be the last story I will write about her. I completely fell in love with her character (and let's be honest, Ruth Connell's accent).
> 
> I did not manage to find a beta, so sorry for my grammar, spelling mistakes etc... I am French and even though I try my best, some mistakes are impossible to avoid. Please forgive me !
> 
> Please, let me know if you enjoyed this story. I am always happy to get all kinds of opinions! I am eager to progress :D

  


Never in her life had she imagined that one day, she would find a family amongst her former enemies. How it happened, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps the passing of her son, her only child, had brought her closer to the ones he used to be friends with? Perhaps it was a way to feel connected to him? Or maybe she was getting soft, despite all her efforts. 

For the past centuries or so, Rowena had done her best to run away from her feelings, from getting attached to people: she had learned her lesson. _ Love is weakness _ . Hell, she had pushed her son away for that mere reason. But _ they _had shown her another way. They, those insufferable boys she had hated and attempted to kill several times. Her heart had been crushed into pieces — or so she had thought. They had proven that she still could love and care. That her heart was still beating in her chest, longing for human presence.

She turned on the bed, bringing the silk covers closer to her cold body. She was shivering, and exhausted — they had gently offered her to stay after this grueling day. Rowena had hurried to Lebanon, Texas after hearing that Dean Winchester was sick. She had abandoned her on-going business, had grabbed her books and bolted into a taxi, hoping she wouldn’t be too late. At this very moment, Rowena MacLeod had realized how screwed she was. She cared enough about that boy to leave everything behind without an ounce for hesitation. She cared enough about them to hurry to their side, no questions asked. Her mind, during her journey, had been filled with fear and worries. Oh — She couldn’t blame Fergus for being around those brothers anymore. They had crawled their ways into her heart touching her with their need to save the world no matter the cost. Their love for one another — that was what she admired most about them, she who had not been able to show such feelings for a while. She had arrived, ready to conjure Death if needed, but it hadn’t been Dean, the sick one. It was Jack — The Devil’s son. While Rowena had hesitated for a while, upon meeting the boy, she had tried her best to find a way to save him. He was her worst enemies’ spawn. He was different. He meant a lot to the boys she loved. But It was in vain. Jack was broken beyond repair and even her powerful magic couldn’t cure him. No matter how hard she tried.

It was a defeat.

Her first one in a long time.

Sam, Dean and Castiel’s heartbroken faces still lingered in her mind. Oh, how she wished she could have been the bearer of good news.

And yet, despite their disappointment and despair, they had offered her a place to stay for the night. Rowena had been ready to leave them to their grief, doubting that her presence would make them feel better and yet — they had insisted on her remaining close. It was their way of saying thank you — it meant much more to her. For the first time ever, she had a home. A place she was welcome in with the people she considered the only family she had ever had. 

When she looked at those Winchester boys she had sworn to loathe, Rowena felt her heart clench in her chest: it wasn’t from pain or regrets. It was love. A need to protect them. Maybe, after all, she had been wrong. Maybe love wasn’t her weakness — maybe it was her strength. The witch had never been overly motherly towards anyone and yet they had managed to awaken this flame within her. Mary Winchester was away — She felt the need to step up and bring them the attention they needed as much as she did.

She sighed. There must be a way somewhere to save Jack. To bring a smile onto her favorite boy’s faces. She had to try again, and again until she could come up with something.

Getting up from her bed, unable to sleep despite the fact that she was utterly drained, Rowena found herself walking along the corridors of the bunker, walking by the room they had once held her in. She passed Jack’s — deadly silent except for his terrible cough. From the looks of it, the boy had finally gone to sleep. Castiel’s door was open: he was the one watching over the Nephilim for the night since he didn’t need any sleep. She could easily picture him pacing to and fro, casting worried glances over the boy he considered his son. She sighed, paused to listen behind the door, hoping the boy wouldn’t die tonight. After a while, she left: there was still a lot of work to do and not enough time. Her steps took her to the library, where she and that archangel had once gone naughty — He had died, she had been told. Pity. While this relationship would have lead them nowhere, it had felt good to see how desirable she still was. Rowena let her weary eyes travel down the many books stocked, grabbing a handful of them to study. Spellbooks, anything that might help her. Rowena was ready to create her own spell if needed — hopefully, it wouldn’t have to come to that. Jack was already at the gates of Death… There was no time.

Finally, she stepped closer to the main area where she found her boys peacefully sleeping on the couch. From the looks of it, they hadn’t been able to find peace either and had had the same idea she had: studying to come up with a better way. She smiled. They were so much alike — in the end. Who could have imagined? 

Touched by their state of weakness, the witch found herself observing them — those boys who had once been the enemy. 

Dean’s face was distorted as he grunted and fussed, his brows furrowed, his mouth open. It was a miracle that the book resting on his chest hadn’t fallen off and awakened them both. Castiel had been right when he had said that Dean was an angry sleeper: even in his weakest state, it almost seemed like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, as if his worries never left him. A heavy snore was escaping his throat, breaking with the heavy silence that filled the room. The witch came closer and tugged the book out of his reach. Enough with the studying: what that man needed was a good night's sleep — even though his world was crumbling down. She was almost tempted to put a spell on him so that his mind would be filled with happy dreams instead of those nightmares he seemed so accustomed to — but she had learned her lesson. Never curse a Winchester behind his back.

Her glance turned on the facing couch, where she found Sam Winchester peacefully asleep, also holding on to a book. Her lips quivered as she smiled softly, repressing a chuckle. While inseparable, the brothers were different from one another — especially when they slept. While Dean was angry — Sam was… tranquil. His angelic face was relaxed, his chest rising steadily. Quietly. He didn’t move, didn’t fuss: he was there, as peaceful as ever, much like a child. It reminded her a bit of her own son when he was only a wee boy. She remembered that night she had decided to leave him behind: she had gone to his room to say goodbye and had found him sleeping. For a moment, she had hesitated — perhaps, if he hadn’t woken up at this exact moment, she would have stayed. But he had opened his big brown eyes on her — and she had left, promising to come back. Knowing fully well she would never.

Rowena shook her head. It was not the time or place to immerse herself in her memories. Another shiver ran down her spine. It was freezing cold outside and the fire keeping them warm was slowly dying. Putting the books on the table, she found a couple of blankets laying around and wrapped them around the boys, careful not to wake them. The red hair took her time to tuck them in for the night — knowing fully well that it might as well be their last sleep for a while. Once done, she got closer to the chimney, hoping the revive the flames. She couldn’t let them catch a cold, could she? She could have used magic, but the glow would have awakened them — which was what she least wanted. Instead, she blew softly on the reddened wood, added some more log to burn and watched as the fire danced in front of her eyes. 

And Rowena froze, overwhelmed by memories. Not the best kind.

_ Not now, Rowena, pull yourself together _, she thought. But it was too late.

She was frozen. Just like that day she had seen Lucifer inside her hotel room, waiting for her. She had entered that day and found him on her couch, defiling her furniture, playing with a sharp knife as if it were a toy.

_ Come on, Red — Let’s have a little fun, shall we? _

His voice in her ears, languid, cruel. 

The feeling of his warm, calloused hands around her neck. His skin burnt against hers. It wasn’t the first time, nor the last.

Her lungs burning — the desperate need of air. He would let her take a breath from time to time only to enjoy her pain further. He gave her what she needed only to see her despair as he took it away.

The pain as he threw her on the ground. The noise of the knife cutting a lock of her hair. The way he crushed her skull multiple times, kicking her dead. 

Her body trying to bring her back — failing. Forever and ever. The spell reviving her for her to die immediately after.

The pain. Oh — the never-ending pain.

The smell of the smoke.

Her body on fire.

His face. His true face. Evil incarnated. Darkness inside of a body. The most horrifying being she had ever seen.

Her screams. Her desperate and unanswered calls for help. No one knew where she was.

No one would ever find her.

The nothingness. The silence of death. The loneliness.

Rowena watched the flames in front of her, tears in her eyes, remembering her death, over and over again, unable to get those sensations out of her system. Her entire body was trembling, her legs giving up on her. The witch let go, sliding on the floor, unable to take her eyes off the mesmerizing fire. She felt the coldness of her own tears rolling down her porcelain skin but did nothing to conceal them.

Rowena had died before. Multiple times. And yet — this time had been different. This time, she hadn’t done anything to deserve it — well not really: she wanted out of that supernatural way of life. Yes, she had pissed the Devil by sending him at the bottom of the ocean, double-crossing him. She, after all, was the only one who could put him back where he belonged: back to the cage. She wanted her freedom and her peace — but the mistakes of her past had caught up with her. She had been helpless, weak, unable to defend herself. She had lost — she refused to see the devil win again.

She refused to let his son die.

Nothing would enrage him more than to see his only child become a good person — and if Sam, Dean, and Castiel truly believed that Jack could become just that, then so would she.

“Rowena? Are you — alright ?”

Startled, the ginger turned only to come face to face with that sweet angel she had grown quite fond of. Castiel looked exhausted and worried but there was such sweetness in his eyes and perhaps even some pity. He noticed her tears — she didn’t hide them away. Why bother? She had accepted her weaknesses. She had a heart despite what she had tried to prove over the past centuries. He held his palm to help her up, and she accepted. He was always so gentle. She was feeling safe, here, with him, surrounded by those she deeply cared about. Rowena simply nodded to answer his question — somehow, his presence had chased her demons away. He didn’t push her to talk— they didn’t linger on her mental state but instead both turned towards the brothers they had both decided to help and give up their lives for if necessary.

“They are so peaceful when they sleep — Innocent, even.” She whispered, her voice quivering from her previous breakdown.

Rowena sniffed and wiped her face before returning to her books, left unattended on the table. Clearing her throat, rubbing her eyes while careful not to mess the makeup she wore at all times, she took place behind an enormous grimoire. The angel followed her and sat silently in front of her, observing her every move. The woman pretended not to notice and began immersing herself in the words — the spells, turning pages after pages. Book of the Damned, Black Grimoire… There was nothing about how to save a Nephilim. Nothing.

She couldn’t lose this fight.

They both remained there for what seemed like hours, the fire breaking the silence.

After a while, Castiel softly cleared his throat, catching her attention once more.

“Rowena? Thank you. Thank you for trying. It means — everything to me. To Sam and Dean.”

The woman smirked sadly. She had not done anything to deserve their thankfulness yet but couldn’t help but feel touched by the angel’s words. She was not used to them — or anyone thanking her. In the past, she had helped them against her will, imprisoned because of her powers. Together, they had saved the world multiple times. But this? This she had done following her heart, her own free will._ For them _. 

Because she cared. 

And she hated that she did.

“Well — I know better than anyone how it is like to lose a son.”

Oskar. Fergus. Their faces invading her mind.

Oskar’s warm body dying in her arms. His blood dripping on her hands, staining her dress.

Fergus’ tight grip over her waist as he begged her not to leave. His tears wetting her dirty rags.

Fergus — or rather Crowley, shocked to find her tied in his Dungeon. His bewildered voice as he had whispered the word _ “Mother” _.

Her greatest regrets. Two people she had loved, and let down.

Rowena, whenever she couldn’t find sleep, liked to imagine an alternative universe in which she would have never abandoned her child. Not even for magic. A life where she could have been normal, seen her son blossom and become the great man he was always meant to be. The man she had kept him from becoming by abandoning him. It would have been boring — they would have remained poor. But at least her life would have been normal. At least, she could have found some kind of solace in watching the fruit of her labor evolve.

It was all wishful thinking. Would she do things differently should she be allowed to change her past? The witch wasn’t so sure. Her choices had lead her here, now. She had two other sons to look after. She had found what resembled a family and it was more than enough for someone her kind. 

The redhead turned towards the Winchesters.

“They deserve some rest. Who knows what evil is waiting for them.” She whispered.

Castiel nodded solemnly, his eyes fixed on Dean’s furrowed face. He was concerned — about Jack, about the brothers, about Dean more particularly for the two of them seemed to share a more profound bond. Yet, his deep blue eyes found their way back to her once more, and for the first time, Castiel smiled at her.

He smiled earnestly, shyly and her heart trembled.

“So do you. Come on, tomorrow will be a better day.” 

Rowena nodded. Her head was heavy with sleep — and none of these spells made any sense to her now. As much as she wanted to find a solution to their problem, she knew she wouldn’t be of any help to them in that state. Careful not to make any noise, she arose from her chair and froze when she heard Dean groan. Instantly, she turned to see if she had managed to disturb his rest — the man had still his eyes closed but seemed in a deep state of agitation.

Castiel, who seemed accustomed to it, moved closer to Dean’s body and placed two fingers at the top of his head. His hand began to glow — he was doing what she had been too scared to attempt: filling his mind with good dreams and memories for him to enjoy at last. The elder brother instantly relaxed as a dreamy smile appeared on his sweet face. Rowena, on the other hand, went near Sam and brushed a few locks away from his face. She crouched down in front of him, observing his features up close. She too, performed a quick spell to ensure that the boy wouldn’t wake up before the break of dawn. Images of the people Samuel loved filled her mind: Dean, Mary, Jack, Castiel… She smiled.

They deserved it. Both of them. They had lost so much and something was telling her that it wouldn’t be the end of it.

Satisfied with her work, she got up and sighed.

“Who could believe that this angel over there will be the one to kill me ?” She whispered, mostly for herself but there was no doubt the angel had heard her.

_ Every version of your death — your real — permanent death, Sam is the one that kills you. _

For months, this sentence had occupied her already busy mind. 

She was scared of that day to come. She was scared of dying — of not knowing what was in store for her. Would she go to Heaven? Hell? To the Empty? There was no telling, even though after years of murder and wickedness, something told her that Heaven would never open its door for her. Her recent redemption would probably never be enough to repay for the bloodshed, the innocent lives wasted.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe, then, she would be able to see her son again.

Her entire life, Rowena MacLeod had imagined that her enemies would crush her. That her demise would only come with pain and suffering. Lucifer had almost fulfilled that belief that day, relishing on her anguish.

But Sam Winchester would never. She could see it in his eyes — the way he kept on fleeing her glance whenever she mentioned it. He didn’t want to be fate’s tool. He didn’t want to kill her. She was no longer a monster. And maybe it made it all difficult.

The witch knew that Samuel could never off her for no reason and she had no plans of tricking them or betraying them in any way. She knew where her loyalty lied. They were beyond that. No, he would kill her if it's absolutely necessary. Perhaps for mercy. Or maybe — like her son, she would find the courage to sacrifice herself for them. Either way, fate had decided to give her the most peaceful downfall she could have hoped for.

This time, she would die in the arms of her friends. Not by the hand of a tyrant.

This time, she would die surrounded by love, knowing that some people would remember her by. Not because of the evil she had done to them — even though it hadn’t all been peaches and roses. Hell, they had tried to kill each other many times. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

They would remember her by because of the help, the support she had brought. Because they were friends — and even more, she liked to think.

And Rowena MacLeod tucked the blanket closer to Sam’s body before shutting off the lights.


End file.
